The very evening after our return, while Dr. Harlowe was giving an account of his stewardship, and congratulating Edith and myself on the bloom and animation we had acquired, a gentleman was announced, and Richard Clyde entered. The heart-felt, joyous welcome due to the friend who is just returned from a foreign land, greeted his entrance. Had I known of his coming, I might have repressed the pleasure that now spontaneously rose; but I forgot every thing at this moment, but the companion of my childhood, the sympathizing mourner by my mother's grave, the unrequited lover, but the true and constant friend. He was so much improved in person and manners; he was so self-possessed, so manly, so frank, so cordial! He came among us like a burst of sunshine; and we all--all but _one_--felt his genial influence. He came into the family like a long absent son and brother. Why could not Ernest have welcomed him as such? Why did he repel with coldness and suspicion the honest, ingenuous heart that longed to meet his with fraternal warmth and confidence? I could not help drawing comparisons unfavorable to Ernest. He, who had travelled through the same regions, who had drank of the same inspiring streams of knowledge as the young student, who came fresh and buoyant from the classic halls where he had himself gained honor and distinction,--he, sat cold and reserved, while Richard dispensed life and brightness on all around. "Oh, how much this is like home!" he exclaimed, when the lateness of the hour compelled him to depart; "how happy, how grateful I am, to meet so kind, so dear a welcome. It warmed my heart, in anticipation, beyond the Atlantic waves. I remembered the maternal kindness that cheered and sustained me in my collegiate probation, and blessed my dawning manhood. I remembered Edith's heavenly music, and Gabriella's." He had become so excited by the recollections he was clothing in words, that he lost the command of his voice as soon as he mentioned my name. Perhaps the associations connected with it were more powerful than he imagined; but whatever was the cause he stopped abruptly, bowed, and left the room. Mrs. Linwood followed him into the passage, and I heard her telling him that he must consider Grandison Place his home indeed, for she felt that she had welcomed back another beloved son. She was evidently hurt by the chilling reserve of Ernest's manners, and wished to make up for it by the cordial warmth of her own. "There goes as fine a youth as ever quickened the pulses of a maiden's heart," said Dr. Harlowe, as Richard's quick steps were heard on the gravel walk; "I am proud of him, we all ought to be proud of him. He is a whole-souled, whole-hearted, right-minded young man, worth a dozen of your fashionable milk-sops. He is a right down splendid fellow. I cannot imagine why this sly little puss was so blind to his merits; but I suppose the greater glory dimmed the less."